


The Seventh Grade Camping Trip

by tensofthousandsoftinyships (evilolive)



Category: The Fosters (TV 2013)
Genre: Intense, M/M, Missing Scene, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-04
Updated: 2015-06-04
Packaged: 2018-04-02 20:54:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4073542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evilolive/pseuds/tensofthousandsoftinyships
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Connor's and Jude's pov on what happened in the tent.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Seventh Grade Camping Trip

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to monotonehell who provided inspiration and canon-tastic input.

_Connor_

It began well. The level of excitement inside the bus was intense. A group of seventh-grade girls had taken over the proceedings, screeching a tuneless rendition of something horrible on a seemingly endless loop. The teachers, for the moment, were pretending not to hear, saving their strength for bigger battles ahead. It was almost impossible for two people talking at a normal volume to make themselves heard. Connor and Jude were sitting near the front of the bus where the noise was a few decibels lower. The two of them had fallen back into their old pattern of sitting together at lunch and in the classes they shared. Following their brief period of estrangement, neither wanted to be apart from the other and Anchor Beach had gone back to regarding the pair as inseparable. They were now enjoying being together outside the confines of the school buildings for the first time since Connor had stopped coming over to Jude’s house. 

Connor’s hopes for the seventh-grade camping trip were high. The first part of his mission was accomplished, which was getting Jude to talk to him again. He was happy that Jude had come around to the idea of being friends at school and hopeful that he had now proven his loyalty. Jude not talking had been awful. Connor did not want Jude to be upset again and was determined to act like a good friend whatever his dad might say. All he needed to do now was convince Jude that the camping trip was an extension of school and not the equivalent of a weekend sleepover. Connor did not know why this camping trip felt so important except that he wanted to feel closer to Jude again. 

Connor wondered if Jude really trusted him again. He could not be sure. Kids in their class still tried to pick on Jude for his otherness and when this happened Connor stood up for him. Nonetheless, a distance remained. Jude held himself slightly apart for reasons unknown. Connor was more afraid of Jude ending their friendship than of his dad’s injunctions. Connor did not tell Jude about the constant lectures. Being a teenager was a risky business, full of dangers and temptations and Connor should focus on his school work and team sports without the distraction of a less-than-socially-acceptable friendship. Connor was warned repeatedly about minimising contact with Jude at school. Connor evaded the interrogations by telling his father about the bullying incidents, casting himself in the role of Jude’s champion. He said he didn’t give a crap whether or not Jude was gay, it made no difference to him. Adam Stevens was attached to his self-image as a liberal kind of guy, and that kind of meaningless bluster went over well with him. He stopped short of actually banning Connor from speaking to Jude.  

Wanting Jude pulled Connor away from the narrow path laid down by his dad. His dad would never be OK with Jude, but Jude was the best person that Connor knew. He was brave and had integrity and he never took the easy way out. These were all things his dad said were important so Connor reasoned his dad must be full of shit. Out of other options, Connor would just put Jude and his dad in separate boxes. He would take every opportunity to be around Jude when his dad was not there controlling his every move. At times, Connor felt like he might explode with the pressure building inside him. 

Connor looked at Jude sitting beside him. He was gazing out of the window and smiling contentedly, his arms wrapped around the backpack on his knee. Jude’s presence calmed him, and Connor had the sudden thought that it would be comforting to put his hand on top of his friend’s sharp elbow and rest it there. He could not do that so looked for another way to make contact. On the pretext of getting his attention, Connor brushed Jude’s arm briefly with the back of his hand. Jude snapped out of his reverie and turned to face him. “What’s up?” 

“Share a tent with me?”

Jude looked out of the window again. He was no longer smiling and had gone somewhere far away. Connor felt a twisting sensation in the pit of his stomach. He should have waited to ask, not given Jude time to think. 

The bus was slowing down and turning onto an unmade road. They were getting close to the camp site. Panicked at the prolonged silence and fearful that his mission was in jeopardy, Connor leaned casually against Jude, shoving gently. “What d’you say?”

The bus bumped and rattled over the sandy soil and through a large pair of gates. Jude retrieved his hoodie from where it had fallen down between the seats and stood waiting to disembark. “I’m thinking about it. Don’t push me, Connor. I want to check with Mama first.”   

Fifteen minutes later, campsite rules and safety warnings issued, it was time for the tents and other equipment to be distributed. Jude went up to his mom the moment she was free. Connor waited by the pile of equipment, dancing impatiently on his toes. If Jude did not move his ass, all the best pitches would be gone. Vice-principal Adams seemed surprised at Jude’s request. Connor overheard her say, in a distracted way, “Of course, honey. It’s fine by me, if you want to.” She tousled Jude’s hair and sent him packing, turning to the next kid clamouring for her attention. Jude walked slowly back to where Connor was waiting and picked up the other end of the tent bag. “Let’s go.” His voice sounded heavy instead of happy to be given the go ahead. 

They headed over to the only spot that was left. It was too near the trees for absolute comfort and the ground underfoot was twiggy and stony but it was at least level. Connor felt worried and uncertain. Had Jude been hoping that his mom would save him from actually having to share a tent with Connor? At this terrible thought, Connor dropped his end of the tent and threw down the bag of tent pegs and the mallet he was holding in his other hand. “What’s going on?” His voice sounded high, like a whiny little kid. Jude always brought this out in him and Connor hated it. 

“You _know_ what. Your dad is going to be mad if we share a tent. He thinks I’m going to jump you in the night or something.” Jude laughed but he did not sound like he thought it was funny. Connor definitely did not think it was funny. 

“Don’t say stuff like that.” Connor could not bear it. A picture of him and Jude in the tent flashed across his mind, Jude leaning over him in the dark, whispering in his ear and…what? He slapped himself on the forehead, banishing his shameful, betraying thoughts. He felt funny all over. 

They stood facing each other under the tree. It was some distance away from the other pitches and no one was near enough to overhear their conversation. Connor was furious and that made him vindictive. “Maybe we shouldn’t share a tent if that’s what you want. Tell you what, I’ll go and ask Blake to swap with me. I bet he’d love to share a tent with you.” 

As usual, Jude turned the other cheek. “Why are you being mean? I just don’t want you to get in trouble with your dad.”

While he considered this, Connor started working on opening up the triple knot that some earlier idiot had made in the top of the tent bag. The hot feeling had receded and with it the surge of anger. Mom always told him when he woke in the night that pictures in his mind were just thoughts and did not have to mean anything. He was calmer and no longer wanted to lash out and hurt Jude’s feelings. He wanted to share a tent with Jude because they were best friends and it was going to be fun.   

“One. He doesn’t need to find out. Two. This is basically still school. It’s a school trip anyway and he is fine with us hanging out at school. Three. It’s not even your problem. Let me worry about my stupid dad. Do you want to share with me or not?” 

He turned away and upended the bag over the ground, shaking out the folds of the tent while he waited for Jude’s answer. 

“Of course I do, dummy. Also, I hope you know what you’re doing with this thing because you are on your own.” 

In the end, a teacher helped them with the tent. Connor had been camping with his dad and the tent went up in record time. He enjoyed the feeling of Jude’s eyes on him as he banged in tent pegs and tightened guy ropes. After that came swimming, and Connor was able to show off again, demonstrating to Jude how to float and kick his legs. The water at the bend in the river was shallow and when teaching and learning to swim became boring, they gave up and just messed around. The best game by far was scrambling out of the water by pulling themselves up by the trees on the bank. From there, they would run full-pelt over the bridge only to plunge down the slippery mudbank on the other side and back into the river to get clean again.   

Ten o’clock was lights out. Connor and Jude had gone to their tent early, tired out and relaxed. The tent was small and stuffy and, after an afternoon of swimming and evening spent sitting around the camp fire, Connor was feeling close to Jude lying next to him in his sleeping bag. The camping trip was turning out to be all he had hoped for. He thought about Jude’s smiling face during the games and songs after dinner and realised he did not want to go to sleep yet. He wanted to keep the feeling going, so he suggested another game and brought out a bar of chocolate from his backpack. “Have some?”

“No thanks. I already brushed my teeth.”

“So did I, but who cares?” Connor broke off a large chunk and stuffed it in his cheek where it melted slowly into a cavity just starting in his lower right molar.  

They piled up bags and clothes behind their backs and played games on Connor’s phone for a while. Jude’s head was close to Connor’s and his right arm pressed up against Connor’s left. It was warm and comforting and Connor increased the pressure surreptitiously. He was determinedly not thinking about what it would be like to drop his head a few inches to rest on Jude’s. The pictures in his mind were back. Mind-Jude looked up at Connor and waited for him to do something. Gradually, in the warm darkness of the tent, lit only by the screen of his smartphone, Connor gave in and stopped trying to push the images away. It was the same at home. During the day, at school and at baseball practice he could ignore the strength of his feelings, get lost in his daily routine and reconcile himself to the barren, lonely path to status and achievement set down by society and his dad. At night, in his bedroom, his thoughts roamed free, wild and romantic, and his dreams, unremembered in the cold light of day, were peopled by a thousand smiling Judes.

Jude yawned, near to falling asleep. Keen to prolong the spell unbroken, Connor considered desperate measures. “Hey, do you remember that game?”

“Wha—?” murmured Jude. Connor sat up. Jude looked ready to slip down the pile of clothes into dreamland, so Connor grabbed him by the arm and pulled him into an upright position. “Hey!” Jude protested but he took the hint, sitting up and squinching his tired eyes at Connor in the dimness of the tent.  “What game?”  

“At your house. Spin the bottle.” 

“What about it?” Jude’s voice was wary. 

“We were supposed to kiss but we got interrupted.”

“Yeah. I remember.”  

Jude was not repulsed by the idea, it seemed. Perhaps he was not even reluctant. Jude, Connor was sure, was not one hundred per cent averse to the idea of kissing him. Excited, he pressed the point. “We should kiss now. You know, because of the game.”

“The game was weeks ago.”

“It’s the rules.”

“Connor, that’s stupid.” Jude sounded sleepy, amused. He might as well have said, _If you want to kiss me, go ahead_.

So, after a long moment, Connor did. He wondered how to begin. Kissing Maddie had been nothing. Chelsea had done everything short of ramming her tongue down his throat. He did not want the kiss with Jude to resemble either of those. This was Jude’s first kiss with anyone. This was a great responsibility. Connor had a strong sense of duty and this helped distract him from his eagerness to kiss Jude. He put down his phone, carefully, on top of the pile of stuff where the light would not be blocked. This game, experiment, practice-run—whatever it was—would not happen again, and Connor did not want to miss anything. He fixed his eyes on Jude, whose face wore a hint of a smile. Connor focused on Jude’s eyes, which were welcoming and soft: they looked like home.   

Eyes open, he leaned over and pressed his lips to Jude’s. His skin smelled of fresh soap from his shower, his hair smelled of the product he’d recently taken to plastering on with an excess of zeal. Connor’s lips tingled, possibly from a trace of toothpaste left over from Jude’s assiduous brushing. Jude’s lips were tensed against his and Connor hesitated, unsure how to proceed. The decision was taken from him. After a second or two, Jude’s lips softened and he pressed back. 

Connor’s eyes slammed shut and he lost himself in the sensation of kissing Jude. 

In that moment, all Connor’s dreams were fulfilled. His dad—with all his rules and restrictive ideas about what was appropriate and correct for his only son—was a million miles away. High on the triumph of the real, warm, smiling Jude kissing him back, Connor reconciled himself to the knowledge that he wanted to do this again. He would be happy doing this forever. 

Noses and breathing were an unlooked-for complication with regard to kissing indefinitely. The side of Connor’s nose was squashed against Jude’s and he was running out of air. He pulled back, his lips separating from Jude’s with a gentle smacking sound. He sucked in a gulp of air, his breath loud in the quiet tent, and angled his head for a second, less clumsy attempt. 

He was pulled up short by Jude’s hand planted in the middle of his chest. Prevented from completing his mission of refastening his lips to Jude’s, Connor opened his eyes, startled, and ready to be embarrassed. Trying to minimise possible hurt, he dropped his eyes, mumbling, “Did I do something wrong?” 

A heavy sigh, full of longing and regret, reached him. Jude’s hand slipped from his chest leaving Connor adrift and anxious. 

“This is all wrong, Connor. We are not supposed to be doing this.” The loss of contact coupled with this sober evaluation was enough to break what remained of the spell.

“If you say so.” 

Connor scrambled away from Jude and across the tent, wriggling down into his sleeping bag. Lying down, he reviewed the situation and came to a depressing conclusion. Jude did not like secrets. Jude did not think being gay was a bad thing, but Jude did not have a dad like Connor’s. Jude had only just started trusting him again and lying and more secrets were all Connor could see in his future. He was trapped. 

Jude pushed the pile of clothes to one side—Connor’s phone sliding unnoticed to a far corner of the tent—and slipped down into his sleeping bag. His eyes, which had fluttered closed as Connor approached to kiss him, were stretched wide open and staring at nothing as he lay back in the close darkness. The sound of breathing was loud and ragged in the stuffy tent as they fought, separately, for self-control. Neither was crying, but it was a close run thing. 

Connor hoped Jude felt as bad as he did right now. He turned on his side to face the tent wall and pummelled his pillow into a better shape. It did not relieve his feelings. The pressure was back, and with it the anger. Through gritted, chocolatey teeth, he snarled, “You can’t tell anyone, OK?”

 

_Jude_

Light was creeping through the nylon walls but the sun was not yet high in the sky and the atmosphere inside the tent had cooled overnight. Jude’s eyes were open and facing the back of Connor’s head. Last night, in response to Connor’s ultimatum, Jude had not said anything but simply sent himself firmly to sleep. Jude had a great capacity for sleep which was linked to his strong instinct for self-preservation. Going to sleep in the worst of circumstances was one of his deepest defence mechanisms.

Jude was not confused about the nature of his feelings for Connor. He knew his own heart. Connor was his ally, his defender and his friend. From their first meeting in math class, initial liking had grown to friendship and somewhere along the line friendship had turned into more. Jude’s awareness of his crush hit him like a hammer-blow the moment Connor sought his permission to ask Maddie out. At home, he did not need to worry about keeping it a secret—although nobody in his family seemed nearly as interested in talking to him about Connor as he might have wished. At school, which was the only time he got to see Connor these days, he kept his head down, made his feelings as unobtrusive as possible and waited, patiently, for Connor to figure out who he was in relation to his dad. Jude’s hope was that once Connor did that, he would see Jude clearly. Then events would take their course: Connor would decide for himself whether or not he liked Jude back. 

Sometimes Jude thought he did. Then Connor would start talking like a different person; he would say something mildly crude about a photo of a “hot” actress or declare that a girl in their class was “cute”. In these moments Jude would nod patiently while inside he rolled his eyes and did his best to squash mean thoughts about who was pulling Connor’s strings and making his mouth move when he said such things. 

Last night, as Jude waited for Connor to kiss him, a deep, quiet happiness and sense of inevitability had overtaken him. In the immediate aftermath, tentative hope that Connor actually liked him had been quickly replaced by sinking disappointment and fear at having been foolish enough to expose himself. Eight hours later, he lay awake, trying not to imagine what it would feel like to reach out and put his hand on Connor’s hair, as conflicting thoughts and feelings warred within him. Sensible, restrained notions about not letting himself get pushed around by his hopeless crush kept being replaced by a strong and very pleasant sense memory of Connor’s mouth pressed against his, intense and dizzy-making like the champagne Jude had sneaked at his moms’ wedding. 

Connor began to emit snuffling noises and move from side to side in his sleeping bag. Recognising the tell-tale signs of a person close to waking, Jude sat up. Connor would not suspect he had been lying there thinking about what had happened. Jude groped around the tent for his clothes and turned his mind to thoughts of breakfast. The seventh-graders had been promised pancakes, and he was quite interested in what toppings would be available. 

The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. Connor’s eyes must have finally opened. Jude finished gathering his clothes and changed quickly out of his pyjamas without saying a word.

“Hey.” Connor’s voice sounded just as usual: gentle with an underlying bubble of energy and enthusiasm.   

“Hey.” Jude’s voice, he was irritated to hear, had a sullen undercurrent that spoke of his confusion and hurt. 

“Looking forward to kayaking this morning?” 

So that was how it was going to be. Jude pulled his t-shirt over his head, slowly, buying time to consider his response. He was ashamed, miserable and full of self-reproach. He blamed himself for Connor’s convenient amnesia. It was his own fault for breaking off the kiss without a proper explanation. Connor had given him an opportunity and he had squandered it by not speaking up for himself. 

Jude could still decide not to play the game. He could speak the truth out loud, break the silent complicity. The kiss had not been play-acting or whatever excuse Connor insisted upon to himself. Jude did not need an excuse to kiss Connor. Only the timing of it, and the place, had felt wrong. He could not, would not tell Connor’s secret, but he could share his own. He could answer Connor’s question honestly: that he liked boys not girls but chose not to label himself as gay, for now. He would make Connor understand that it was his choice. He was only thirteen and in no hurry to adopt more labels to add to the multiple labels he was already saddled with and had never asked for: the foster kid, the adopted kid, the kid who’d been to five schools in seven grades and was always struggling to catch up, the effeminate kid, the kid with the sister who’d been to juvie and was a “runner”. 

Jude could not decide, so he said nothing, pretended he had not been listening. This was a highly successful survival strategy developed over a period of years and on this occasion it worked just as intended. Connor did not repeat the question but started moving around the tent looking for his phone. 

The air in the tent was heating up again as the sun climbed higher in the sky. Jude started to untie the nylon fastenings on the front of the tent. He carefully rolled up the doors and the stuffy air inside the tent began to clear. 

“Hey, Jude—um, did you hear me before?” Now Connor was the one who sounded hurt and confused. Somewhere deep inside him, in his smallest, meanest, most secret corner, Jude was pleased. He considered not speaking to Connor for a whole day. Perhaps he would choose not to speak to anyone. 

“Sorry, what did you say?” Jude turned around, blinking, as though he had been daydreaming. He took in Connor’s mussed hair and sleepy features, his puzzled, questioning face. Jude could not go back. He did not want to return to that frozen place. It was safe there, in his shuttered, private, silent world, but the cold shrivelled him inside and made him forget how much he loved Callie and the rest of his family—and Connor. 

He sat in the doorway of the tent, soaking up the early morning sunshine and listening to Connor blather on about the day ahead while he searched around in the mess on the floor for his board shorts. 

Jude remembered kissing Connor and let himself think, just for a moment, about how much he had wanted Connor to kiss him a second time. He could feel his love for Connor getting stronger and knew he was in danger of getting hurt. Jude knew what it was to hurt. He did not think he could take being hurt by Connor. He might not survive it. 

Jude thought about everything leading up to the moment Connor kissed him. He was sorry that Connor was under so much pressure from his dad, but it was not his, Jude’s, burden to take on. He needed to take care of himself. He might speak up, but without a reason to trust that Connor would not let him down, the risk was too high. The world had betrayed Jude over and over again, but he would keep himself safe this time. 

Someday he might be able to ask what game it was Connor thought he was playing and just who did Connor think he was fooling with his stick-to-the-script attempts at passing for normal? Jude wished Connor understood he was better than that. The time was not yet. It would be better to keep his distance a little longer and wait and see what Connor did next. 

The board shorts came to light under the heap of stuff at the back of the tent. Connor was finally ready and they could go and have breakfast. Jude decided he would have whipped cream on his pancakes and a banana. Perhaps he would have nuts as well. He dived out of the tent and waited on the grass, jumping up and down, in a hurry to see how people cooked pancakes on an open fire. He did not hold out a helping hand to drag Connor to his feet.

Side by side they surveyed the camp site. Noises of getting up were coming from the other tents but Jude and Connor were first on the scene. 

“It’s a beautiful day to learn kayaking,” Jude said, lifting his arms in salute to the sun. 

“Race you,” said Connor. 

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is love.


End file.
